Page 173 of Gloves Off

“You bought this, thinking about me?”

The blush deepens.

“Hellfire,” I warn, already getting hard. “Tell the truth.”

“Yes,” she says lightly.

I grip the back of her neck and give her a hard kiss, blood rushing to my groin. I groan against her lips. “Good girl. I love it. Thank you.”

She smiles, and my heart expands. When I move to the next box, though, she folds her arms, then tucks them under her thighs, then folds them again.

This is the one she’s nervous about. Curiosity courses through me as I open it.

My fingers find soft knit fabric, and I pull out an emerald green sweater.

“I know it’s not the most original gift,” she says quietly, “but my mom gets one for my dad every year. It’s tradition.”

My heart aches with affection. I want this to be the first of many Christmas sweaters from Georgia. I want a whole closet full of them.

I nudge my chin at the lingerie. “Are we going to match?”

She laughs. “I love the way men look in those sweaters.” Her eyes dart to mine. “I saw it and I thought of you.”

“I’m glad you did.” I pull her into my lap. “I love it. Thank you.”

Our kiss is sweet and soft, and deep in my chest, everything settles.

She’s terrified, but she’s trying. She’s inching forward to meet me.

“All right.” I give her thigh a squeeze before setting her aside. “Your turn. Stay here.”

I return a moment later with a box.

“This isoneof your gifts. The other wasn’t ready in time,” I lie about the velvet box.

The second she shakes the box I hand her, she smiles.

“Really,” she says, like she can’t believe it.

“Just open it.”

Her eyes glow with excitement as she tears off the wrapping, and when she flips the box open, she lets out an excited yelp of surprise. “Shoes!”

“Like them?” I laugh.

A puzzled expression forms on her pretty face, and she narrows her eyes up at me. “I don’t know these.”

I stifle a grin. Her eyes narrow more.

“I know every shoe by this designer from the last five years. This is not one of them.”

“I know.” Most of the shoes in her closet are by this designer.

“Alexei.”

“Keep looking.”

Her expression is wary, like she’s afraid to peek in the box, before she pulls out a card. She reads it and her eyes go wide.

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